Page 198 of Their Arrangement
The same motherfucker who left bruises on her ribs and panic in her voice.
This wasn’t about money. Wasn’t about random chance.
It was deliberate. Ordered. A message from Selene, signed in bone.
Crack.
He started breathing harder.
Sweat beading on his forehead.
“You think this is it?” I said. “You think pain is the part I have trouble with?”
I grabbed the back of his chair and pulled him an inch closer.
“Pain is the part I enjoy.”
He spat blood onto the floor.
Choked.
Then—
“She—she didn’t tell me her name?—”
My body went still.
“She called herselfThe Bitch—said the girlowedher.”
He was shaking now.
“Said—said don’t kill her. Just scare her.”
My jaw flexed.
His eyes widened.
“Please—she said just enough to make her run. Just a warning?—”
A sound cracked behind us.
Sharp.
Final.
Gunshot.
The man jerked. Then slumped. Dead weight. Masonreached for his gun—but I was already standing. Turning. Eyes wide.
There, across the garage?—
A figure in black. No face. No voice. Just a silhouette with a suppressed pistol still raised.
He nodded once. Then disappeared into the shadows. No footsteps. No sound. Just gone.
I stood in the quiet for a long time. Turned back toward the body. Still tied to the chair. Head tilted at an unnatural angle. Eyes open. Mouth slack. He died without ever knowing what was behind him. Or what he was about to say.
I crouched. Not because I wanted to examine the body—but because my legs were trembling and I didn’t want to sit. Blood had splattered across his shoulder. The scent of it hit like iron and sweat and something that would never quite wash out of my coat.
